Free Fairfield Hall by Margaret Dickinson Page B

it for a moment, saying, ‘There is just one more thing. I presume you have family pictures hanging
in Fairfield Hall?’
    James was puzzled. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘It has always been the custom to have a portrait done to celebrate a twenty-first birthday.’
    ‘So – there’s already one of you?’
    James nodded. ‘In the dining room.’ Now he was beginning to understand.
    ‘I intend to commission an artist from London to paint Annabel’s likeness,’ Ambrose went on. ‘He is able to come at once so that it can be done in time for the wedding.
I’d like to think that a portrait of the new Lady Fairfield will hang in a prominent place in the hall.’ Ambrose raised his eyebrows in question.
    James hesitated for a moment, but, glancing at the piece of paper still in Ambrose’s grasp, he murmured, ‘Of course.’
    Now Ambrose smiled and held it out towards James. ‘My cheque for ten thousand pounds.’
    James took it and gazed down at it. ‘You can’t imagine what this means to me, Mr Constantine. The death duties for both my father and brother have crippled the estate. But
this’ – he tapped the cheque with his forefinger – ‘will save Fairfield. It’s a great deal of money and I can’t thank you enough.’
    ‘My dear fellow, it’s a small price to pay for my daughter becoming Lady Fairfield.’

Ten
    The only disappointment for Ambrose was that there was no time to plan a lavish wedding. Because of James’s commitments to his regiment, the marriage took place just over
three weeks later on the last Wednesday in August in the nearest church with only Annabel’s parents, grandparents, Sir William and Lady Cynthia and a few other guests who attended at
Ambrose’s invitation, present. Not even James’s mother or sister and nephew attended, which Annabel found strange and rather worrying. James dismissed their absence with a wave of his
hand, reminding her that his family was still in mourning.
    Ambrose had insisted that a wedding breakfast be held in the large dining room at their home, where he made a speech briefly welcoming his new son-in-law into the family but dwelling more on how
proud he was that his daughter was to be Lady Fairfield and that her son would one day be the seventh earl. Sarah nodded her approval and smiled around the table. Only Annabel’s grandfather
shook his head in despair. As the newly-weds were about to depart, Edward took Annabel’s hands in his and, as he kissed her forehead, he whispered, ‘We’re only a few miles from
where you’re going to be living – only the other side of Thorpe St Michael. Any problems, my lovely, come to us. Promise me, now.’
    There were tears in her eyes and her voice was shaky as she said, ‘I promise, Gramps.’
    And then they were on their way in a flurry of goodbyes and good wishes.
    They stayed at a hotel for the night in Cleethorpes.
    ‘Forty or so miles is too far to travel now,’ James said. He was driving the brougham, which Annabel’s father had lent them. ‘We’d be so late arriving.
Besides,’ he smiled at her, ‘we must make the most of the next two days. I’m afraid I must leave on Friday. I have a very understanding commanding officer, but even he cannot
grant me indefinite leave.’
    Annabel tried to smile. She’d understood that the life of an army wife would not be easy but even she hadn’t realized that their time together at the start of their marriage would be
so short.
    The room was not lavish, but it was comfortable and a welcoming fire burned in the grate, though it was hardly necessary. The day had been fine and bright and its warmth still lingered into the
evening. Dinner was served to them in their room, though Annabel kept her eyes averted from the huge bed. She was nervous about her wedding night. She knew the basic facts of life – she
hadn’t stayed on her grandfather’s farm without learning them – but all her mother had said to her was, ‘Do your duty by your